


of angels and chaotic monday mornings

by moneden



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Brian is a little shit, Dowoon doesn't know why he puts up with these people, Jae is Jae, M/M, Student!Wonpil, Teacher!Jae, Why am I writing this I don't even ship JaePil, Wonpil wants to slap Brian, meaning he is cute ok, tbh same, wonpil is whipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-12-28 10:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21135098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moneden/pseuds/moneden
Summary: Wonpil hates Monday mornings until that one time he doesn’t.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Book of Us:Entropy is finally here, oh happy day! And this is entirely based off the showcase and Wonpil saying how cute Teacher Jae is and how shameless he is doing so while Jae.exe stops functioning.  
UnBeta-Ed cause I have no friends.

He doesn’t think there is anything special about disliking Monday mornings. After all, it’s reminder of the mundane, copy paste reality he has to face, of endless class he has been gradually losing interest in favour of developing his growing love towards music. Because frankly speaking, Wonpil would rather get some more sleep, then wake up and sit at his little piano right after, meticulously studying melodies and trying to come up with new ones than sit in class right now.

There’s something so utterly beautiful of this quiet moment, of the headspace he finds himself in the moment the tips of his fingers graze the keys. It’s a moment nearly intimate, his touch is delicate and he feels like they’re becoming one – an artist and his instrument, forming something beyond perfect, a connection not to be broken, tangled together as he descends deeper into the depths of passion, until his wrists start hurting, until he realises it’s late and he still hasn’t finished any of his assignments.

Not that he hates them – he’s preparing to enter engineering degree course, science books piling on his desk and sure, that’s interesting but it’s been overshadowed by the thrill that music gives him. His eyes get tired reading about inertial and non-inertial frames of reference, torque, thermodynamics, entropy – all difficult terms multiply before his eyes and the mathematical background of his knowledge still needs to be polished, reminding him that he hasn’t finished his exercise papers yet.

It’s frustrating, to follow the path you’re no longer interested in just because your parents want you to. Because there’s certain weight of expectations resting upon your shoulder, making each step difficult. He knows his parents are accepting, that they would understand if he wanted to pick up music instead for university but at the same time Wonpil imagines the disappointment in their eyes, their thoughts how they must have wasted money paying for his tutoring when he was particularly struggling at school.

So he just deals with it, uses music as a stress relief. And he doesn’t seem to be the only one, he knows Younghyun and Dowoon do the same. Except for Younghyun is pushing for something related to business and Dowoon – well, it’s still some time until he goes to university, anyway. He has a year to make his mind up. But when they meet up during lunch breaks, music is the main topic in between their complaints about teachers, homework or the fact that days are getting colder and shorter yet they still have to spend them at school. Outrageous.

He looks over at the clock. It’s about to hit 8am and that makes him wonder, can he manage to get just a few math problems done? Or does he just use the power of his (very much irresistible, if he could say so) puppy eyes and ask Younghyun about copying his homework just this one last time, just this–

Nevermind, Younghyun’s head lies passed out atop his desk.

Wonpil really thinks it’s a super power to be able to fall asleep at literally any place on demand.

And really, he hates Monday mornings. His head still hurts from the lack of sleep (blame the timezones and livestream of his favourite British band at 3am) and he thinks he could write a whole ode to his bed if he was given his piano right now. Who was even heartless enough to come up morning class on Monday?

It’s 7:59am when something shifts in the room and Wonpil’s eyes look up.

There’s a boy. No, an _angel_.

Wonpil swears there’s a soft choir singing somewhere in the background, that he emits rays of sunshine. His hair is a fluffy mess, delicate frames sit low on the slope of his nose, little onyxes hiding behind them. From the distance, they look like dark skies with stars scattered across them, twinkling happily. His lips are beautiful, soft-looking, little pillows that stretch into the small smile. Full and pink, adorning the glowing milky canvas of his skin, an ethereal picture that steals Wonpil’s breath away. He’s cute, adorable, beyond sweet in the way he looks, the youthfulness he exudes makes him want to jump to his feet, to take care of him, give him everything he wants right in this moment and–

He’s tall, his frame is rather frail and even his layered clothes can’t hide it – _Clothes_. Wait, why isn’t he wearing a uniform?

It’s 8:00am when he stands behind the front desk, facing the class and Wonpil realises _why_.

“What’s good, kids. Your school thinks it’s apparently time you finally had some conversations with a native speaker so I’m here to bother ya’ll for some time”

He almost doesn’t register he’s speaking English, too engrossed in the softness of his timbre, subtle yet loud enough, dancing on the borderline of delicacy, nearly saccharine. Then it hits him.

Younghyun’s eraser. With “Loser” on a little yellow post-it note. He finally darts his gaze away and looks at Younghyun who gives him a sly fox smile. Brat.

By the end of the first period, Wonpil knows a few things: angel’s name is Jae, he’s a few years older, he’s from America, his English is terribly attractive (even if he doesn’t understand much – like majority of the class – and Jae feels kind enough to speak Korean to them, weaving English in between sentences) and he has the cutest little laugh when he cracks up over something he says (Wonpil doesn’t know why he laughs, he doesn’t understand the joke but he’s grateful enough to be blessed with such an angelic sound).

“You forgot about being so fucked right now” Younghyun interrupts him, mouth full of his tuna sandwich, shit-eating grin on his face

“Hyung, you actually understand English?” Dowoon asks instead, his genuine surprise making Wonpil groan and hide his face in his hands, peeking through his fingers at his strawberry milk that stares right back at him pathetically.

He hates how he agrees with both of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not exactly satisfied with this but I tried.

When his eyes flutter open, he knows there is no need for him to stay awake. Because Jaehyung woke up and everything is still the same. The bed is still cold, the rain still hits against his window, providing the only sound in the otherwise dead room. He’s alone and the realization makes his heart clench, more and more each day no matter how badly he tries to get used to it. Because really – how do you get used to being lonely? How does one get used to overwhelming isolation, the lack of sound, another body next to yours, the lack of spark somewhere in his heart to make it feel alive, like it has a purpose it is beating for. Because right now, it feels like it beats just to keep him alive, no matter how much solitude swallows it.

He’s about to close his eyes again when his alarm rings and he’s reminded that he needs to pick himself up, get ready and leave for work. A part of him starts wondering why he decided to pick those classes up – it’s not like he was struggling financially. He should have said no when Sammy asked him for that favor. But it’s too late now and Jaehyung has approximately 25 minutes before he has to rush out of his house.

He really hates Monday mornings. But then again – who doesn’t?

Kids (they’re not even kids, Jaehyung is merely 3 years older but he’s supposed to be a teacher and what’s a better way to call a bunch of 19 year old people?) in the class are cute, he admits. He finds it easier to smile, to speak, there’s this odd enthusiasm he has missed ever since he came back to Korea and a part of him thinks that Sammy might have planned this, might have picked up on how he’s been feeling lately and decided to thrust him into the bunch of lovely kids.

However, he doesn’t think he has planned for Jae to experience warmth under his collar sometimes when he’s in the class. He doesn’t think Sammy knew Jaehyung would find, _feel _a pair of eyes midst thirty others that would follow him, study him more meticulously than the language. And he doesn’t know what to do about it. Doesn’t know what to do when their eyes meet and he averts his gaze, chuckling the rush of excitement off by saying some random pun no one in the class really gets because of their limited knowledge of English.

( He tries to ignore the spark in his heart. )

( For the first time in a while, Jaehyung’s heart feels so alive. )

( And when he’s left alone in the classroom, kids leaving, he tries not to think about eyes that lingered upon him. )

* * *

When Wonpil wakes up on Monday morning, it’s 30 minutes before his alarm. Heavy breath fans his lips subtly left ajar and he groans, rubbing at his face in frustration. He’s appeared in Wonpil’s dreams again – an angel.

And he really can’t stop thinking about how every time Jae smiles, an ethereal picture paints itself. There is not a day he doesn’t think about how sometimes, just sometimes when their eyes meet, something glimmers for a fraction of a second within the deep orbs the older has. It’s impossible not to think about how smooth and soft his voice is, how his plump, perfect, pink lips look when he purses them in a pensive moment and – And another groan leaves Wonpil, frustration pounding in his veins.

Blood rushes faster than he wishes it did, his hand wanders off faster than he thought it would and with a grip, his mind is clouded with images of soft, milky canvas of Jae’s skin, of his beautiful lips, his elegant long fingers, of the soft laughter that resonates through the room so beautifully, music no instrument could ever copy, no angel could beat.

“Beautiful” he breathes out, thinking about his angel.

And if he closes his eyes again, just a little longer –

Wonpil’s alarm rings and there is no grunt this time. Because it’s a Monday morning and he loves them.

Because he gets to see his little angel that oh, looks so lovely today. There’s something utterly adorable in the way Jae fixes his glasses, how he blinkblinkblink blinks, one eye especially, a sheepish smile coming to his lips when he realizes his eyes did that once again. But then again, Wonpil thinks that at this point, Jae could do anything and Wonpil will coo at him.

He’s quirky, he’s like no one he has met before even though they have never talked privately but sometimes, he thinks that surroundings start disappearing, that there’s only the two of them, that Jaehyung feels how Wonpil gravitates towards him, like the moon dedicated to its only planet. Because how could one not feel attracted to Jae? A simple law of attraction, he recalls. Gravity, falling, space…Physics, how he feels is scientifically proven.

Wonpil rests his cheek on his hand and smiles, watching Jae trying to get Sungjin to speak English some more, obviously sensing he understands way more than he lets himself be seen.

The laughter Jae lets out after Sungjin says something rings in his ears for the rest of the day.

“Dude, I think you should chill out a little” is what Younghyun tells him when they ditch the last period, resting on the rooftop. Dowoon’s there too because that’s a given. He never leaves Younghyun’s side.

“What do you mean?” and he genuinely wonders, unsure what Younghyun wants to pry on this time.

“It’s so obvious you want to bone him” Wonpil chokes on his sandwich.

“Pili hyung wants to bone the new teacher?”

“Yeah, it’s disgusting seeing him in class oogling poor Jae, I bet he keeps on thinking about bending him over that de–“

“Oh my god shut _up_” before Younghyun can continue, Wonpil takes his shoe off and throws it at the other.

“Just for the record, nothing wrong with that” the fox-eyed boy says, throwing the shoe right back “And your feet are fucking smelly”

Wonpil never mentions his morning to Younghyun, he goes home and works on his English homework.

* * *

_Softly your voice rings,_

_Oh angel, the heaven must miss,_

_The way you brighten up the sky._

When Jae sees the note left on his desk, letters scribbled meticulously in English alphabet, his heart skips a beat.

And when Sammy asks why his ears are so red, he excuses himself and leaves for the day.

Maybe his day feels a little less lonely, too.

* * *

It’s their 6th week of class and it’s only two weeks more until Jae stops visiting them but Wonpil pushes away the thought of never seeing him again. He relishes in last hours, never once gets tired of the way Jaehyung conducts the class, exists. Wonpil can’t help but to notice how less tensed he seems to be, how he smiles more, seems more confident, how his voice is louder than in the beginning, how the class converses in English much more, Sungjin becoming ‘nearly American’ as Jae jokes.

And yes, it’s still the same quirky way of teaching by talking about the most random things, picking up on topics that don’t necessarily relate to their final exam but it’s the conversation that makes the class laugh. Even when Jae uses too many popculture references no one understands. Except for Younghyun. But he’s a nerd.

Jae mentions something Wonpil doesn’t recall ever hearing of and Younghyun replies in English, making the older burst into laughter, nodding and thanking him for getting whatever reference it was.

“_Brian_” he says in between the coughs and Younghyun shoots him a death glare just as Jae moves onto the next topic.

It will probably earn him a hit but he thinks it’s worth it.

He’s so engrossed in the prideful feeling he doesn’t even notice the end of the class, pen pressed into the yellow post-it note, hand unsure what to rhyme with angel. Maybe Wonpil hasn’t been studying English diligently enough.

“Wonpil?” it’s when a soft voice calls his name out that his head snaps and looks up, noticing Jae standing by his desk “Did you zone out? The class finished”

The way in which Jae’s eyebrows furrow reminds him of an either worried or a sad puppy and Wonpil has never wanted to take care of someone this much in his entire 19 years of breathing.

“Ah, sorry” is all he mumbles, suddenly feeling flustered and hiding the note in between his books as he gathers his belongings.

And really, he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, if it’s the fact that they’re suddenly alone and there is no one else but before Wonpil leaves, he catches Jae’s gaze and–

“You’re so cute, teacher” he swears he refers to the fact that Jae curses at how some of the chalk gets on his black oversized sweater ( and his cute cute _cute_ paws ), violently trying to shake it off.

He wonders if he’s going to regret it when he sees Jae freezing, almost panicking.

Jae blinks again before he quickly averts his gaze and clears his throat, going back to cleaning the blackboard.

After noticing the pink staining the tips of his ears, Wonpil decides that he, in fact, doesn’t regret it.

( He keeps the image in the back of his head when he goes to sleep later that night, smiling. )

( He doesn’t know Jaehyung recalls his words and falls asleep with a smile, too. And his bed is a little less cold, the feeling in his chest keeping him warm. )

* * *

It’s a little emotional on his last Monday. Kids give him chocolates, kindly remembering about one of his rants about pollen and not giving him flowers instead and Jae can’t help but to feel a hint of sadness in the pit of his heart.

Maybe he thinks about how he will probably never see those faces again, he’ll never joke with Younghyun again, he won’t hear Sungjin’s ridiculous sentences, his eyes won’t ever come across Wonpil’s gaze again–

Wonpil. He’s quiet today. Jaehyung chews his bottom lip and looks at the last post-it note he has been left, gingerly saved in his notebook.

“Gosh, stop being such a bum” Younghyun groans as he desperately tries to make Wonpil at least speak.

“Leave him be, his crush is leaving” Sungjin interrupts, he has somehow found himself hanging out with the three of them.

“Hyung, cheer up” Dowoon has the most sympathy, rubbing at his back in comfort.

“Guys just leave me alo – ”

“Wonpil?” a fifth voice chimes in and all four of them turn around, facing Jaehyung “Swing by my office after class, I think you left a note in the class. Or two. Don’t worry, I’ve- I’ve gathered and took care of them” before anyone can say anything, Jae clears his throat and leaves him, clearly running away to hide his embarrassment.

He leaves and Dowoon and Younghyun, and Sungjin, and Wonpil wonder what the _fuck_ happened.

“…Oh my fucking _god_, go confess you ass!” Younghyun eventually exclaims, dramatically pushing him towards the rooftop’s door.

And Wonpil goes.

He runs.

His heart beats so loud.

And when he confesses, he makes Jae’s feel the purpose to beat again.

( He goes back to hating Monday mornings but with an angel by his side, every day is a little more bearable, anyway. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is absolute trash but I really wanted to finish it. TT Sorry if it's disappointing. Anyway, thank you for all the kudos and taking your time to read this work!


End file.
